


like light reflected on the surface of water

by moodyme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alive Noah, Brief appearance of Barrington Whelk, Gen, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot, he's just a sk8r boy livin that late-2000s sk8r boy life, swimmer!Noah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:11:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyme/pseuds/moodyme
Summary: Noah Czerny is alive, and happy. He loves skating (tho he's bad at it) and swimming (because he's great at it) and just breathing.





	like light reflected on the surface of water

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you connaweir of tumblr, for this prompt. I love writing alive!Noah so so much, and I hope you enjoy it!

There were few things in life Noah loved more than that moment during a swim meet where he was up on the board, about to take off at the sound of the shot. That moment where there was nothing but the pool in front of him, light reflected on the still surface like a thousand points of glitter. The feeling of his swim cap on his head, goggles tight around his face. His breathing the only sound echoing in his head. 

The knowing that he was about to break that still, glittering surface with his strokes, the water gliding over him, his arms and legs pushing against the resistance of the water.

One of the things he loved more, was the little stuttering breaths he got while swimming. Short and sweet and each one feeling like a victory. It was intoxicating.

It reminded him, every single time, of how fucking awesome being alive was.

Noah loved skating, too. Loved all the little bastard heathens with their music blaring at the skate park, the smell of skunk (of kush, really) strong even in the outside air. Loved the feeling of finally managing to grind on the rails, the adrenaline that came with dropping into the bowl.

There was a rush to it, even when he crashed. Especially when he crashed, sometimes. The feeling of falling and falling, scraping his knees and elbows (because padding was for _pussies_, apparently, and everyone agreed that only Tony Hawk could get away with it. Because Tony was special, or some shit.) and taking those falls knowing it meant that, maybe, he was getting better. Because the falls were becoming less frequent. And the tricks were being landed more often.

He loved exploring the woods and dusty books in libraries and poorly coded and moderated internet forums in search of Barrington Whelk's little mysterious mumbo jumbo ley lines.

The quiet of the woods, the light filtering through the overhanging canopy of branches and leaves.

He loved the look of consternation on Whelk's face when he screwed up a translation, when he looked derisively at the librarians for telling them to 'shush'. Whelk was a king at Aglionby, and Noah found him a riot, how pretentious and boyish and _insouciant _he was.

Noah loved being alive, with all its slings and arrows and seas of trouble. Loved the warmth of the sun and the cold of snow and the crunch of leaves under his feet.

He loved breathing, air filling his lungs and exhaling with force.

The way the light of the moon came in through his dorm window and shone on the wall opposite his bed and casting strange figures about the room.

Loved the thrill that came with pushing his red Mustang faster and faster and faster through the back country roads of this hick town he had been sent to.

Noah fucking loved being alive.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
